


Love Under Will

by gothclark



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-23
Updated: 2010-10-23
Packaged: 2017-10-12 20:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothclark/pseuds/gothclark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean sees the light. Castiel has a plan to help defeat Lucifer and Sam feels lonely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Under Will

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank my three wonderful beta readers. Mr. Goth who was of tremendous help and there for me through all my teeth-gnashing, danceswithgary, and Alee. They all helped to make this story much better than it would have been without them. All remaining errors are mine.  
> Warnings: Spoilers to end of Season 4.  
> Disclaimer: Supernatural is the property of Eric Kripke. No infringement intended.

They were on the run in a world drenched by a downpour that had continued for seven days and seven nights. Dean was convinced that the rain was some sort of sign, some ill omen that there was something worse in store for them just over the horizon. He peered at the back seat again, terrified by what he could see, the same horrifying thoughts repeating in his head. _How could there be so much blood in one person?_

"Hang in there, Sammy," Dean called out over his shoulder. "We're almost there. Just keep pressing your hand against the wound." Bobby's place was just a few miles further; Dean could already see the roof of the house. He took the turn sharper than he should have, tearing a groan from Sam.

Dean kept telling himself they'd been lucky to get out of the place alive, even as he wondered where the fuck Castiel was. The angel had promised to be there, but hadn't shown. Dean cursed him repeatedly in his head, despite knowing that if Castiel could have been there, he would have - that something must have gone horribly wrong.

Dean swore under his breath and turned into Bobby's driveway. When he slammed on the breaks, Sam cried out to him from the back seat. Jumping from the car, Dean rushed to the passenger side, Sam's head falling back when Dean opened the door. Sam was barely conscious, and moaning from the pain. Dean felt bile in his throat and the thought that his brother was dying made him sick, but he had no time to spare. He cursed aloud and pulled Sam out of the car, somehow finding the strength to lift his heavier brother up. As if to mock them, the rain intensified, and they fell back into the mud, Sam on top of Dean.

A flashlight suddenly blinded Dean, but he was too exhausted to care. His clothes were soaked from the cold, hard rain, and he was shaking uncontrollably as he held on to his brother's limp body.

"Holy shit!" Bobby exclaimed, pointing the flashlight at the ground beside the two brothers before squatting down to help.

Dean pressed an unsteady hand to the stab wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood, even as he thought that it was too late, that Sam's life was ebbing away. Despite the pounding rain, Dean heard the rush of wings before he saw Castiel. The angel bent to pick Sam up and, carried him up the steps into the house with Dean following close behind.

Everything was happening too fast, leaving Dean's head spinning. The stabbing had happened before Dean could do anything to stop it. Dean turned his head and vomited until he dry-heaved.

"It was a fucking ambush," Dean managed to get out between gasps for air. He remained bent over, clutching at his stomach, tears burning his eyes. When Dean finally looked up, he saw Castiel kneeling beside an unconscious Sam, whose wound was still seeping dark blood. Dean staggered towards them, collapsing beside Sam to check his pulse. It was difficult to find and, just for a moment, Dean thought that the worst had happened.

Castiel was staring hard at Dean. "I tried to get to you," Castiel said, but Dean wasn't listening.

"Fix him," Dean demanded, consumed by rage at just how pointless the whole night had turned out to be. _If only he hadn't been so cocky. If only he'd turned left instead of right._ Dean knew he'd made all the wrong choices, but that was irrelevant now with his brother dying before him.

Castiel looked to Dean, his eyes filled with empathy. "I can't," he said with obvious regret.

"What do you mean you can't?" Dean shouted, reaching out to grab hold of Castiel's coat collar. There was no way he could hurt Castiel but, at that moment, Dean didn't care. Castiel did nothing but stare into Dean's eyes. The look of sorrow only angered Dean more and he cursed under his breath and turned to Sam. Grabbing Sam by his shoulders, Dean gently shook him, pleading, "Come on, Sammy. Wake up. You can't fucking die on me."

"Dean," Bobby broke in firmly. "Maybe we should call an ambulance?"

"Come on, Bobby. You know they'd never make it in time," Dean muttered, the image of the demon stabbing Sam flashing through his mind. Dean hadn't been thinking straight at the time, what with demons hot on their heels. He hadn't realized just how bad off his brother was. They'd dealt with this sort of thing so many times before, but now Sam lay dying because Dean had made the wrong call. Dean glared up at Castiel and threatened, "You better fucking do something or so help me...."

"Even if I were to zap him to the nearest hospital, the trip would surely kill him instantly," Castiel confirmed with sorrow in his voice.

"Then fix him with your angelic mojo!" Dean demanded.

Castiel looked from Sam's unconscious body to Dean. Dean could see the conflict in Castiel's eye and part of him felt a small shred of hope. After all, Castiel had defied heaven already.

"I...."

Dean's hope morphed into rage. "You better fucking doing something or so help me..." Dean resisted the urge to reach out and smack him a good one, but he'd only be hurting himself.

"There is one option but..." Castiel finally said.

"I'll take it!" Dean said, before Castiel could say more.

They exchanged a look and Dean knew what it meant. He understood that Castiel was about to do something he wished he didn't have to do. Knowing Castiel, it was probably dangerous to everyone. Still, after all their time together, Dean had come to trust Castiel almost as much as he trusted his own brother.

"You may wish to stand back and cover your eyes," Castiel said.

Dean stumbled to his feet, and backed away, as Castiel had suggested, standing beside Bobby. Castiel placed a hand on the wound on Sam's stomach. Dean flinched, unsure what to expect, but when nothing happened, he felt the urge to order Castiel to hurry up whatever it was he was going to do. Dean watched as Castiel's eyes went blank. Bobby grabbed hold of Dean's arm and held him back when he tried to rush to Sam's side again.

They watched as Castiel cupped Sam's face in his hands and moved in closer and whispered something they couldn't hear. Sam's eyes fluttered open, and he mouthed one word. Dean thought it was yes, but he couldn't be sure, and then there was a light streaming from Castiel to Sam, the light brightening until Dean and Bobby had to cover their eyes. When it was safe for them to look up again, Castiel had collapsed to the floor, panting for breath.

Sam was sitting up straight, staring down at his blood-soaked clothes, a calm expression on his face. There was no pain in his eyes and, when he looked to Dean, he gave a slight nod of reassurance.

"Castiel?" Dean said. Sam looked up at him with confusion.

"This is not preferable, but it was the only way," Sam said. His voice was all wrong and his eyes were strange, as if he wasn't really Sam anymore. He pulled his torn shirt open to reveal that the wound had closed, and then rubbed the congealing blood from skin that was puckered and pink where the knife had penetrated.

"Where am I?" Castiel said, looking around the room in confusion. Dean could tell by the voice that he wasn't Castiel, just as Sam wasn't Sam.

Then a flash of blinding light once again filled the room, and vanished almost instantly. Dean barely had a chance to cover his eyes before it was over, and Sam lay unconscious, while Castiel stood on shaky legs.

"Sammy," Dean said. This time when he rushed forward, Bobby didn't stop him. Dean kneeled down by his brother's side, checking his skin for himself. There was no sign that of the stab wound. "Why is he passed out?" Dean asked, trying not to give in to his sense of panic.

"He's in shock," Castiel said, as he took a cautious step forward.

"I don't know, Cas. He still looks bad. Are you sure you didn't pull out too fast?" Dean asked. He was still in shock himself at what he'd just witnessed. Castiel had made such a big deal out of which person an angel could possess, so Dean wondered how any of it was possible.

"I assure you, Dean, your brother's wounds are all fully healed," Castiel said. "But it can be... overwhelming to have an angel inside you," Castiel added, bowing his head.

"That's an understatement," Dean said.

* * *

After a quick shower, Dean emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He sat down on the bed and sighed with relief, aching all over and desperately needing sleep. The sound of wings filled the room, but Dean was so exhausted that Castiel's sudden appearance didn't even startle him.

"Where's Bobby?" Dean asked his gaze fixed on the floor.

"He's watching over your brother," Castiel said. He stood by the window, looking out as calm and still as always.

Dean rubbed his eyes and stretched out across the bed, groaning as he felt the mattress sink beneath him, the blankets almost embracing him. He'd promised Bobby that he'd get some sleep. Dean hugged the pillow to his head, and then tensed when he felt the other side of the bed dip.

He wanted to ask Castiel to give him some privacy, but his throat felt raw from screaming, and his head was swimming, black shapes dancing beneath his eyelids. Dean hugged himself as a sudden chill ran through him. "Don't you ever need to rest?" he muttered, fighting to stay awake as he felt sleep overtake him.

"You already know the answer to that question, Dean." Castiel's voice was closer, almost in Dean's ear. Another blanket fell around Dean, and gentle hands tucked the soft fabric around him.

"Back off, dude." Dean made a halfhearted effort to push Castiel's hand away.

"Sleep," Castiel whispered in his ear. "I promise I won't let anything happen to you."

 _How could Castiel promise something like that?_ Dean wondered as he drifted off, and the thought echoed in his mind.

* * *

 _Screams and cries echo all around him. A smile splits his lips, and the blood wells on pale flesh from the knife that slices, each cut executed with precision. The stench of sulfur and fear fills his nostrils and he inhales deeply of the scent. Cries of agony echo through the air and the man in black pushes another instrument of pain into his hot, sweltering palm. Each prayer for redemption ignored, and his chest swells with pride at Alistair's oily words_

'Excellent work, my boy.'

The distant sound of something crashing against walls fills the room and both Dean and Alistair look to the noise. Something explodes beside him and Dean feels himself wrenched from Alistair's presence.

* * *

Dean shot up in terror, and his heart raced. He sat gasping for breath, and it wasn't until he'd calmed down that he realized Castiel was still in the room. He lay on the bed beside Dean, his eyes closed. Dean vaguely recalled Castiel's promise last night to watch over him, but he hadn't thought Castiel would still be there.

Castiel opened his eyes and turned to look at Dean. "You've been asleep for five hours, seventeen minutes and seven seconds," Castiel said. "That isn't enough sleep, considering what you've been through."

"You're right, but sometimes you just have to take what you can get," Dean said. He stretched and yawned, turning his back on Castiel. His neck still hurt and his body still ached, but he felt much more refreshed. When his stomach growled with hunger, Dean perked up at the thought of food. There was just one problem. He was still naked under the towel, and he wasn't about to get dressed in front of company.

As though he'd read Dean's mind, Castiel stood and, moments later, the sound of wings filled the room. When Dean turned his head, the angel was gone. Dean breathed a sign of relief, glad for the privacy. He took his time trading the towel for fresh clothing, thoughts of his nightmare running through his mind as he slipped on a t-shirt and jeans. Unfortunately, he'd given up hope awhile back that the nightmares would vanish. Just as Dean buttoned up his flannel shirt, he heard the door behind him open.

"I'll be right down, Cas," Dean said, slipping on his watch.

"It ain't Cas," Bobby said from the open doorway.

Dean turned to his friend. "Hey, Bobby. You can stop worrying. I managed to get some sleep," Dean said.

Bobby cleared his throat and nodded.

"What is it? Is Sammy okay?" Dean's heart did a flip in his chest at the thought that something bad might have happened while he'd been snoozing.

"Sam's fine." Bobby reassured him. He took a deep breath.

Now Dean was sure there was something wrong. Bobby wasn't able to look him in the eye, and there was a pained expression on his face. Bobby closed the door and leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

"Out with it, Bobby," Dean said.

"Look, what you do is your business."

Dean stopped fidgeting and gave Bobby his undivided attention, waiting for his friend to continue.

"I just don't get why now," Bobby said. He broke eye contact again, and stared down at Dean's feet, unable to look back up at him. "Is this really the time and the place for you...?"

"For what, Bobby," Dean said. He was about ready to shake the words out of Bobby. "You are making zero sense here."

"This," Bobby gestured at the bed and then at Dean and then over his shoulder. "You and Castiel."

Dean frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you canoodling… with an angel."

Dean's eyes went wide.

"Stop!" Dean said. He raised his hands as though to stop his friend physically from uttering another word. "There was no canoodling going on here." He shook his head, relieved that Bobby didn't have some dire news. "What gave you that idea?" Dean chuckled nervously at the thought.

Bobby eyed Dean carefully. "Well," Bobby said. He shrugged his shoulders. "When I asked Castiel where he'd been, he said he was in bed with you." Bobby glanced away. "I just assumed that..." Bobby hesitated. "Come on, Dean. The way you two look at each other. I mean, what the hell was I supposed to think?"

"What do you mean the way we look at each other?" Dean said.

"Aw, hell, I don't know what I was thinking," Bobby said after a long silence.

"Me neither," Dean said. "You know I'm straight as an arrow. Even if I were to go there, which I absolutely would not," Dean added. He could feel his face burn with embarrassment as he spoke the words. "He's riding around in Jimmy. Not to mention, he's an angel." Dean threw his arms up to punctuate his last sentence. He couldn't believe that of all people, Bobby could think something so outrageous. _What looks? There were no looks. Since when did just looking at another dude mean that you were gay?_

Dean moved to leave the room. His stomach was still rumbling and the conversation was over as far as he was concerned.

"Wouldn't bother me none if you ever did 'go there.' I mean with a guy," Bobby said.

Dean turned to glare at Bobby, who raised his hands in defense.

"I'm just saying," Bobby added hastily.

"Let's just pretend this conversation never happened," Dean seethed. _Seriously, Bobby needed to shut up right this second because he was starting to venture into uncomfortable territory. Hell, they'd passed uncomfortable a few minutes ago._

Dean opened the door and rushed down the stairs before Bobby could say more. He felt relief wash over him when he saw that Sam was awake and sitting up. Sam held a mug in his hand, and Dean could smell the aroma of fresh brewed coffee. Glancing around the living room, Dean noticed that Castiel wasn't around, which he considered a blessing, considering the conversation he'd just had with Bobby. Dean wasn't sure if he could look Castiel in the eyes without thinking about what 'the looks' meant.

"Glad to see you're up and about," Dean said.

Sam leaned back and grunted at Dean. It seemed that all was back to normal, as if nothing had ever happened, as if Sam hadn't almost died. _If Castiel hadn't taken that risk..._ Trying not to think about what could have happened if not for Castiel, Dean thought he should probably thank Castiel for that. They were all alive, and that was what Dean concentrated on as he went to the kitchen to pour himself a fresh cup of coffee.

Someone touched his shoulder from behind, and Dean jumped. He dropped the pot, but Castiel rescued it from crashing to the floor. Castiel was standing much too close for Dean's taste, and Dean elbowed him, but Castiel didn't budge.

"Back off," Dean grumbled.

Castiel took a step back. The hot liquid in the coffee pot sloshed against his hand and the skin turned red. Dean watched in amazement as the burn healed before his eyes.

"I apologize for startling you."

"Dude, seriously. Personal space. Learn what it means," Dean said. He reached for the coffee again. When their fingers brushed, Dean flinched, and released the handle. He watched as the pot fell to the floor, and shattered against the linoleum. Hot coffee splashed their shoes and the floor. Dean stood open-mouthed and stared down at the broken shards of glass. When he looked up into Castiel's eyes, Castiel stared back at him, unblinking. _This was all Bobby's fault, and that stupid conversation._

"What the hell happened?" Bobby came rushing in with Sam right behind him. Dean looked over at them, and a sudden feeling of guilt washed over him.

"Nothing, I just dropped the coffee pot."

Bobby gave Dean a look as if he wanted to call him an 'idjit,' and Sam shook his head, obviously stifling the urge to laugh or mock or possibly both. Dean snatched a kitchen towel from the counter and bent to clean up the mess. Castiel bent at the exact same time and their heads knocked together. Dean almost lost his balance when they collided, but Castiel grabbed hold of his elbow and kept him from falling. His face burning from embarrassment, Dean glared up at Bobby, who looked stunned but then started to laugh. Sam was already holding his stomach as he burst into uncontrollable laughter. Dean yanked his arm out of Castiel's grip.

"Ha fucking ha," Dean muttered, wiping up the spill while Castiel gathered the broken shards. Sam couldn't seem to stop laughing. Dean stood once they were finished cleaning and threw the soaked towel into the sink. Castiel tossed the broken pieces into the trash. For just a moment, Dean was convinced that Castiel would heal the pot. _Stupid. Why the fuck would he bother to 'heal' a coffee pot?_

"I have another pot somewhere," Bobby finally said once he'd stopped laughing. Sam was wiping tears from his eyes as he stood leaning against the wall. Dean turned to wash his hands and bumped into Castiel, again. This time, Castiel did move out of Dean's personal space, holding his hands behind his back. Dean took a deep breath and marveled at just how absurd this whole morning had been. It was kind of funny. He chuckled nervously as he soaped his hands up and rinsed them under the running water.

Bobby found the replacement and started up a new pot of coffee. Dean and Sam both sat down on the sofa, and Dean smacked Sam on the side of the head.

"Ow, what the hell was that for?" Sam said, rubbing his head as if Dean's hit had caused him pain. Dean glared then narrowed his eyes at his brother. Dean rubbed at his own head, and swore he could feel a bump forming where it had hit Castiel.

"Traitor," Dean muttered.

* * *

Weeks passed. Lucifer still roamed the earth, though he seemed to be hiding from them.

Dean leaned back in his chair to stretch. His jaw cracked as he yawned, and he noticed that Castiel was staring in the distance, lost in thought. With his head tilted, Castiel looked like he was listening to something or someone invisible. Dean watched as Castiel's expression changed from blank to miserable. When Castiel's shoulders slumped, Dean turned his attention back to the book in his hand.

For the past three days, they'd been searching every text they could get their hands on for a mythical symbol which, when wielded, supposedly had the power to banish Lucifer back to hell. Dean was skeptical about the supposed magical symbol. In his experience, nothing was ever that simple, but Bobby had found some obscure notation in an even more obscure book that made similar claims of the mark. Bobby and Sam had gone off to meet with Brad, a hunter friend of Bobby's. He'd claimed he had a copy of a book supposedly lost and rumored to contain an image of the symbol.

Dean finally set his book aside and asked, "What is it?" He and Castiel hadn't spoken much since Sam and Bobby had left to meet up with Brad. Castiel had seemed distant all morning and, over the past few days, he'd been quiet, almost melancholy.

Head bent and face hidden, Castiel answered, "You wouldn't understand." His voice sounded strange and Dean stood to cross to where Castiel sat. He'd deliberately dodged Castiel for days after what Bobby had said followed by the incident in the kitchen. Bobby's words kept coming back to haunt Dean. Even though Bobby had apologized for misreading the situation, and they hadn't spoken about it again, Dean couldn't get it out of his mind. He'd started to notice that Castiel stepped into his personal space all the time. Despite having explained the concept of a comfort zone, Dean rarely complained when Castiel invaded his.

Dean had begun to see Castiel in a new light. Sure, he occupied Jimmy Novak's body, but Dean was convinced that when he stared into Castiel's eyes, he could see the angel shining through them. He'd noticed that Castiel would lean toward Dean whenever they were standing close and would watch Dean whenever they were in a room together. There were nights when Dean woke from his nightmares of hell to find Castiel perched on the edge of the bed. At first, that had freaked Dean out. After a few nights, Dean grew comfortable with the feeling that Castiel was watching over him, and possibly pulling Dean from his nightmares before they got too vivid. The nights Castiel left him alone, were also the nights Dean woke with a scream trapped in his throat.

Dean sat down next to Castiel on the sofa, careful to put a healthy amount of space between them. Castiel didn't look up nor did he move. He just stared at his hands.

"You and your brother are the only friends I have left," Castiel whispered. He lifted his head up and stared ahead, not turning to face Dean.

Dean blinked, taken aback by the bleak statement. Dean wasn't sure what he'd thought would be bothering Castiel, but that wasn't what he'd expected.

"I'm sure once this is over, you'll get your angel friends back," Dean said, trying to sound reassuring.

"I may be cut off from my home, but I can still hear them," Castiel said as he lowered his gaze once more. His throat bobbed up and down when he swallowed and Dean noticed for the first time that Castiel had extremely long lashes that cast fluttering shadows across his cheeks in the dim light. When Castiel finally did look at Dean, his eyes glistened with tears. "They whisper my name with contempt."

Dean tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat.

"I'm..." Dean started to say, but then stopped, unable to come up with anything to say. He thought about 'sorry' but that word barely covered it when Castiel had lost everything for Dean. All Dean had needed to do was stop Sam from bringing Lucifer forth, but in the end Dean had failed, Dean hadn't made it to Sam in time, and Lucifer was free. Dean reached out and placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder, unsure of what else to do or say.

Castiel looked up at the ceiling and Dean realized he was probably praying to his father. His gaze turned on Dean and a tear escaped, trailing down his cheek. Dean had thought that angels were incapable of such strong emotions, but many of the beliefs Dean had held had been shattered in the last few years. He squeezed Castiel's shoulder and moved closer, settling in beside him. They sat in silence, until Castiel tilted his head and nodded as though Dean had said something. Dean wasn't sure what possessed him, and he'd swear it was the absolute last thing on his mind, but the look in Castiel's eyes awoke something in him. Hesitant at first, Dean leaned in closer and, at the last moment, he closed his eyes before pressing his lips to Castiel's mouth.

At first, Castiel didn't kiss him back, and Dean was mortified, suddenly afraid he'd made a grave mistake, but then Castiel kissed him slow and careful. Castiel's mouth was soft and his lips parted on a sigh, letting Dean's tongue inside. They shifted on the sofa to a more comfortable position and Dean felt his dick growing hard in his jeans. He pulled back, stunned at what had just happened.

"What was that for?" Castiel asked. He reached up and touched his own lips with his fingers.

"I don't know," Dean said. He wiped his mouth with one shaky hand and shrugged. "I thought it would make you feel better."

Castiel seemed to weigh the sentence in his mind and, when he focused wide eyes again on Dean, he nodded slowly. Dean looked away and bit his lip. _This is crazy. I just kissed Castiel. I should be more freaked out, but I'm not._

"Did it work?" he asked, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans.

"It did," Castiel said. "Thank you, Dean."

* * *

By the time Sam and Bobby returned from there sojourn, it was almost midnight. Sam had a bruised lip and cut mouth, and Bobby had a nasty gash over his left eye. Dean and Castiel rushed out to meet them in the driveway. The overcast sky threatened rain.

"There was some trouble," Bobby said as they all went back into the house. Bobby headed for his liquor, pouring himself a glass of the hard stuff.

"No kidding," Dean said. He motioned for Sam to sit and felt a twinge of sympathy when Dean touched his swollen and purpled, split lip. Dean moved to get the first aid kit, and Castiel watched from the side while Dean tended to Sam. Under the house lights, Dean could see that there were more than just busted lips and superficial cuts. Sam removed his jacket to reveal his torn shirt and broken fingers on his left hand. Dean burned at the thought that while his brother was getting his ass kicked, Dean was safe inside, swapping spit with an angel.

Sam cringed under Dean's ministrations as he applied antiseptic to the cut. He tilted Sam's head up to get a better look and Sam's messy hair fell back to reveal a blackening left eye.

"I ducked," Sam said. He flinched at Dean's touch. "...mostly."

"Did you get the symbol?" Castiel asked.

Sam muttered a thanks as Dean finished his examination. Bobby shook his head and swallowed down his drink. Silently admitting that he should have known not to get his hopes up, Dean glanced at Castiel, to see the glimmer of hope fade.

"Brad was dead when we got there," Sam said as he tilted his head so his bangs fell back in front of his eyes and covered up the shiner. Dean leaned against his brother and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"His place was trashed and we searched for hours. We didn't find any _mythic_ symbol for vanquishing the lord of hell," Bobby said. Dean could hear the bitterness in his voice and noted that Bobby flinched as he rolled his shoulder. He was obviously hiding how badly he'd been hurt. "We managed to grab a few texts, and some talismans, but I'm not sure what good they'll do us." Bobby tossed something on the end table, a velvet bag that rattled from the sound of its contents.

Dean picked up the bag and opened the drawstring. A handful of gems and other stones spilled into his palm.

"It was a long shot," Dean muttered. "I guess it really was just a myth." One of the gems caught his eye and he examined it in the light, before he tucked it into his pocket. The rest went back in the bag.

Sam leaned against Dean and closed his eyes. For a moment, the room was silent as they all contemplated what it meant. They were alone in their battle and each day that passed brought them no closer to defeating Lucifer. They'd barely managed to remain a step ahead of the bad guys.

"Not necessarily," Castiel said looking up at them with renewed hope in his eyes. Dean was the only one who bothered to look his way. Castiel stepped forward with his chin in the air. Sam sat up straight, and Dean walked over to Castiel. "I could go back."

"What do you mean go back," Dean said, narrowing his eyes at Castiel.

"Not all of my brothers and sister feel the same way that Zachariah feels," Castiel said. He stepped closer to Dean, right into his personal space.

"No!" Dean said. "That's too dangerous."

"You don't know what I'm going to say," Castiel said.

"Yes, I do. You want to go back up to heaven to recruit other angels to our cause," Dean said. He was glaring now at Castiel, and they stood nose to nose and chest to chest, neither willing to back down. Dean could feel Castiel's warm breath on his face and he searched Castiel's eyes. What he saw made his heart skip. Castiel was afraid. It was so obvious to Dean. "That's insane. And besides, I thought you said you were cut off from going there."

When there was no reply from Castiel, Dean looked to Sam and Bobby to back him up, but their expressions were far from the stunned reaction Dean expected. Dean was determined there was no way Castiel was doing this. Knowing that Zachariah was not one to hesitate when he wanted something done, and the fact that Castiel had pulled one over on him, Dean expected Zachariah would have a hate-on for Castiel.

"We have to at least try," Sam chimed in, standing up. There was an expression of sorrow in Sam's eyes.

Dean turned on Sam.

"We," he said, "There's no we in that plan. It would be Cas up there all alone, with no backup. He'd be flying solo." Dean realized as he said the words that he was afraid too, afraid for Castiel, a freaking angel with God-given powers. The problem was those powers had been reduced, and he'd be going up blind, unsure who was friend and who was foe. If they caught Castiel, he could be erased.

At least down here, Dean had Castiel's back, even though Dean was sure that after what had happened between them earlier, everything had changed. The thought of Castiel being snuffed out of existence made Dean's insides twist and his blood chill.

"It will be dangerous, but I can do this, Dean," Castiel said, grabbing hold of Dean's arm to get his attention. "I have to do this. You said that if there was anything worth dying for this was it," Castiel continued with a nod, "And you were right."

Dean clenched his teeth and felt his heart start to race. _Way to fucking throw his own words in his face._

"Fine," Dean said. He yanked his arm free from Castiel's grip and stalked away, turning his back on him. He could already feel his throat start to close up at the thought of Castiel being gone. The chances of him returning from this were slim to none, and Dean took a deep breath, frantically searching for the right words to change Castiel's mind and finding none.

Dean composed himself and turned to face Castiel.

"I'll go at dawn," Castiel said with a nod.

Dean glanced at the clock to see that it was almost two AM. _How had the time gone by so fast without him realizing?_ All Dean could do was nod and turn to trudge upstairs. He closed the bedroom door behind him, glad for some privacy.

When he turned to the bed, he wasn't alone. Castiel sat on the edge of the bed head held high. Dean stood uncertain of what to say or do, but Castiel seemed sure. He stood and rushed to Dean, pushing him against the wall and pressing his lips to Dean's mouth. Dean pushed his tongue past Castiel's pliant lips. He tugged at Castiel's coat and yanked it off, letting it fall to the floor, then Castiel was pulling Dean's shirt up to get to bare skin. Everything was a flurry of motion as they tore at each other's clothes. Dean moaned aloud as Castiel rubbed against him, the feel of Castiel's erection pressed against his sending an electric thrill through him.

They moved to the bed without breaking the kiss. Castiel pushed Dean onto the bed and yanked his shirt up over his head. The brief moment their lips broke apart was too long for Dean, and he mashed their mouths together, licking and biting and kissing hungrily. Castiel moaned when Dean bit his bottom lip and then his ear. Dean dragged his lips against the stubble on Castiel's cheek and his cock jumped in his pants. They kissed as they fumbled with buttons and zippers, and then, finally there was bare skin. Dean caressed Castiel's naked chest, pinched his nipples, and thrust against his leg, his cock painfully hard, desperate for release. It may have been insane, but Dean didn't care.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean moaned. He shifted position and knocked the bedside lamp to the floor.

There was a pounding on the bedroom door, and they paused in their actions, Dean looking up into Castiel's heated gaze. He pinched Castiel's nipples again, and humped against his leg. Castiel licked Dean's mouth and muttered something Dean couldn't make out. They were almost naked, Dean's jeans, and briefs pulled down past his knees, and he could feel the warmth of Castiel's hard cock against his thigh. Dean shoved his hand down Castiel's white briefs, wrapped his hand around Castiel's length, and stroked him.

"Dean," Sam called out. "Is everything okay in there?"

"Everything's fine," Dean yelled. "Go away." Dean muttered a prayer that his brother would not open the door, cursing the fact that he hadn't locked it behind him. When he heard the sound of fading footfalls, Dean breathed a sigh of relief and turned his full attention back to Castiel. He flipped Castiel over and rolled on top of him, kissing him hard. It had been so long since he'd been with anyone, and the kiss earlier in the day had been the first time he'd actually wanted another man in that way.

Castiel stopped Dean in his haste to strip the rest of his clothes off and stared deep into Dean's eyes.

"I..." he started to say, but Dean silenced his words with another long, hard, lingering kiss.

"Shut the fuck up," Dean ordered against Castiel's mouth.

Castiel nodded and kissed him back, passion in every line of his body. Dean pressed him down against the bed and licked down Castiel's bared throat, eager to touch every inch of exposed skin that he could get his hands on. Castiel quivered beneath him, and their eyes locked as Dean slid down to place a kiss on his soft, flat belly. Dean grabbed hold of Castiel's slender hips and placed another kiss on his left hip then on his right then trailed his tongue along the light smattering of down-soft hairs, following it to his navel. Dean swirled his tongue around the indented skin and smiled when he saw Castiel quiver again. Castiel lay watching as Dean pulled his unbuttoned pants and briefs down past Castiel's hips, tossed them aside and wrapped his hand around Castiel's hard dick. Dean slid his lips around Castiel's cock and gently sucked on the head. Within moments, Castiel bucked and cried out as he pulsed into Dean's mouth.

Stunned that he'd come so fast, Dean pulled off and watched until he was finished, then eased down beside Castiel, petting his bare stomach. Castiel reached out and touched the handprint on Dean's shoulder with one hand, and then wrapped the other around Dean's still hard cock, stoking him from root to tip. They kissed and Dean moaned with each stroke. Castiel was slow and gentle at first, but then Dean reached down and added his hand to Castiel's, urging him to speed up. The friction was incredible, and Dean pressed against Castiel's hot, naked body, closing his eyes, each stroke rougher and harder than the last.

"I did it for you, Dean," Castiel whispered into his ear. "I did everything for you."

It was the single fucking hottest thing anyone had ever said to Dean, and he shuddered from Castiel's touch. Dean's cock pulsed again and again, hot come spilling over their hands. His body twitched and jerked with his cock, and their eyes locked and it was all there, naked and bared for Dean to see. Every emotion Dean had denied was so obvious that Dean couldn't understand how he'd missed Castiel's true feelings. He stared into Castiel's dark blue eyes and wished for that moment to last an eternity.

* * *

Dean's thoughts were on Castiel and how he'd looked as they'd... what? Fucked, had sex, made love? Dean wasn't sure. Dean hadn't slept at all; he couldn't after what had happened. They hadn't said a word as they dressed. Dean had never been one for romance, and he sure hadn't been ready to talk about what had happened and why.

The night gave way to dawn, and Dean watched as the first light of the day filled the morning sky. There wasn't a single cloud to obscure the brightness. He took a swig from his flask and screwed the lid back on. He heard shuffling behind him and glanced over his shoulder to find Sam staring at him.

"Isn't it a little early for that?" Sam asked. He made to reach for the flask, but Dean moved it away. Sam dropped his hand, and sighed.

"Early, late, whatever," Dean scoffed. The chill in the air made him shiver and he turned to shut the front door.

"Did you get any sleep at all?" Sam asked in that soft, caring voice Dean teased him about all the time. Bobby stood beside Sam, frowning.

Dean stared past Sam and Bobby at the man behind them. Castiel stood with his gaze on Dean, his hands tucked inside his coat pockets, and Dean could see a shadow of fear in his expression. Dean felt the urge to rush forward and squash that fear, but he held his ground.

"Not really," Dean said, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. He looked up again at Castiel and then at Sam. "We should get this over with."

Castiel nodded and turned to leave the room. In the night, he'd told Dean that he needed to be alone, that the light of his exit would be too bright for human eyes, but Dean knew that was bullshit. They'd all watched before when Castiel had moved from the girl to Jimmy's body. The light was safe and, even if it wasn't, Dean could still cover his eyes.

Dean watched Castiel head up the stairs. He knew deep down that it might be the last time he saw Castiel, and he turned away to hide the raw emotions he was sure were plastered across his face. Without a second thought, Dean rushed up the stairs, hoping he would make it to the room before the grand exit. He wanted Castiel to know that he would be here waiting and that Castiel had better not get his ass killed in heaven.

A million thoughts went through his mind as he stood in front of the door to the bedroom where they'd just spent the night together. He reached out too late, looking down to find his feet awash with a bright light.

Leaning against the wall, he slid down to sit on the floor, a wave of nausea overtaking him. He could still see the light out of the corner of his eye, and Dean watched as it faded away into darkness. Moments later, the door opened, and someone walked out.

"Hey," Jimmy Novak said.

Dean could tell by the tone of his voice that Castiel was truly gone. He stood up.

"Welcome to the apocalypse," Dean said. He steeled himself for what he knew was inevitable, and turned to face the man.

"He's gone," Jimmy said softly. His voice was so different from Castiel's, higher, and softer. Even if Dean hadn't known what was happening inside that room, it was clear from looking into his eyes that Castiel was no longer occupying the body of Jimmy Novak.

"If you're hungry, there's food downstairs," Dean said. He recalled the first time they'd met Jimmy, and how much food the man had consumed in one sitting.

Jimmy nodded and walked past Dean.

"Don't even think about going home to your family," Dean said to his retreating form. Jimmy stopped and turned, obviously annoyed by the comment. "If you try, I'll hunt your ass down."

"I won't," Jimmy said, his face twisting with an ugly sneer. He disappeared around the corner and Dean stared, into the empty hallway for a moment, unsure what to do next. Opening the flask, Dean guzzled the rest of the contents, wiping his mouth with his hand, then slid down the wall and sat thinking the same thing repeatedly.

Castiel was gone, maybe for good.

* * *

It all felt so familiar, as if caught in a permanent state of déjà vu. Sometimes, that was how it was. The days melded together until he could barely tell the difference between yesterday and today. Most of the time, Sam Winchester was just happy to be alive. By all rights, he shouldn't be. He should have been six feet under years ago but instead he was in Bobby's kitchen making lunch. Bobby had gone to the store an hour before to get some supplies, because with four mouths to feed they were going to need more food.

Jimmy Novak was sitting at the kitchen table, lost in thought. He was so quiet Sam glanced back for the tenth time to make sure he was actually there. Sam didn't intend to let the man slip through his fingers this time.

Dean had come down from upstairs earlier and said he was going to check the panic room for something. His brother had seemed fine, but Sam started to worry when Dean still hadn't come back upstairs after an hour.

Sam cut the sandwich in half and turned to set the plate down in front of Jimmy. He set a glass of milk down as well, and turned back to make a sandwich for himself.

"Thank you," Jimmy muttered.

Sam grunted a reply without turning around. When he finally did, he found Jimmy still staring into space. Jimmy shook his head, picked up the sandwich, and took a bite.

"Everything cool?" Sam asked.

"I just didn't think I'd see the world again," Jimmy said. He set down the sandwich and brushed crumbs from his hands.

"It's been a rough year," Sam said. He finished making his own sandwich and sat down across from Jimmy. He hadn't intended to say much more, but he felt Jimmy deserved to know where things stood. Before he knew it, the words spilled out and Sam more or less told him what had happened over the past year since Jimmy had given Castiel permission to ride around in his skin. He skimmed over a few of the details, leaving out the part about the demon blood. Sam explained how the angels had tricked them and had been working against them all along leading into an explanation of how Castiel, at the last minute, helped Dean but too late to stop the outcome. Sam confessed that he had freed Lucifer and how he'd had been tricked by Ruby. By the time he was done, Sam was breathless and feeling worse than he'd felt since he realized Dean had not quite forgiven him for everything.

Jimmy leaned back in his chair, eyes wide and mouth gaping open. "You don't do things halfway, do you?" he asked after a long silence.

"No, I guess not." Sam couldn't look Jimmy in the eye. "Most nights, I can deal with what I did." Even as Sam said the words, he knew the truth deep down inside. He hated himself for the choices he'd made, but there was no point in dwelling on that.

"So what's the plan then?" Jimmy said.

Sam looked up at him and shunted his growing melancholy aside to concentrate on the here and now.

"Cas went up to Heaven to recruit allies," Dean said.

Sam turned to find his brother standing in the entrance to the kitchen. He watched Dean walk to the kitchen counter and pick up a piece of roast beef. Dean stuffed the slice in his mouth and chewed with gusto. Sam cleared his throat and turned away to look at Jimmy.

"So we're running from demons and angels," Jimmy said, summing things up in one sentence.

Dean scowled while still chewing and shrugged his shoulders.

"Yup," he said through his mouth full of food. Sam cringed when bits of meat flew from Dean's mouth. Before Dean had even finished chewing and swallowing, he stuffed another slice into his maw. Sam could see the half-chewed food from where he sat and started to chuckle at his brother's lack of manners.

Jimmy sighed and looked away from Dean, his expression saying 'can you believe this guy.' Sam wanted to say yes but, since Jimmy hadn't actually said the words aloud and Sam was only thinking all this in his own crazy head, he kept his mouth shut. He marveled at how different Jimmy was from Castiel, a complete opposite. It was strange to see the man, who Sam had come to see as Castiel, eating and making more than three facial expressions.

Sam glanced up at his brother, noting that Dean was glaring at the back of Jimmy's head, his eyes filled with anger. Moments later, the anger vanished and Dean swallowed his food, licked his lips, and turned away from them.

Jimmy finished his glass of milk and stood, brushing crumbs from his hands. "I think I'll go take a shower," he said pushing the chair in. "I feel kind of gross."

When neither Sam nor Dean said a word to his declaration, Jimmy left the room to go upstairs, stopping on the way to remove the trench coat and hang it on a hook by the front door. Once Jimmy's footfalls had faded and he was sure the man was out of earshot, Sam spoke up.

"This is so fucked up," Sam said, shaking his head. He pushed his plate away and noticed that Dean was staring in the direction that Jimmy had gone. There was something up with his brother and he wasn't sure what. Sam wanted to ask, but he knew Dean would just shrug it off and tell Sam he was imagining things. Tact was required.

"You're worried about Castiel," Sam said.

"There's a lot more than Cas to worry about."

"I know, but I just thought..." Sam said, feeling his heart sink. Prying free what was troubling Dean was going to be hard, but Sam saw an expression flash across Dean's face that gave him hope. It might be easier than he'd imagined, but the sound of the front door opening broke the moment.

"Hey honey, I'm home," Bobby said. He held bags of groceries in each hand. "Well, don't just stand there with your yaps hanging open." Bobby held the bags up. "There's more in the truck."

* * *

While Dean stayed downstairs with Bobby to do more research on that supposed symbol, Sam went upstairs to get some much-needed rest. Sam saw that the door to the guest room was ajar, dim light filtering through the thin curtains to fall across the bed where Jimmy sat with a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was still damp from his shower, and Sam watched as Jimmy ran his fingers through it, spiking the wet strands.

"You can come in," Jimmy said, glancing up at Sam. Even in the faint light of the room, Sam could see the sorrow in the man's eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to..." Sam began to say. He entered the room and nudged the door shut behind him.

"I'm trying to decide what to wear," Jimmy said with a hint of sarcasm. He held the white shirt in one hand and the black tie in the other. The rest of his clothes lay on the bed beside him.

"If they need to be washed, there's a laundry room downstairs," Sam said, gesturing at the clothes. "I'm sure we could find something that would fit you."

Jimmy looked Sam up and down and nodded.

"Right, because you and I are about the same size," he said with more sarcasm in his tone. He set the shirt and the tie down with a sigh.

"Look," Sam said, moving closer. "I get that this sucks."

Jimmy shook his head, gritting his teeth as Sam stood before him.

"Maybe my stuff won't fit, but Dean can probably lend you something."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Jimmy asked. He stood up and scrambled for the towel before it slipped off. Sam looked down, but still caught a wedge of the pale flesh of Jimmy's left thigh. Something on the floor caught Sam's attention, and he bent to pick it up. It looked like some sort of jewel when Sam examined it in the light. Peeking through his bangs, Sam saw that Jimmy had turned his back to him, and the towel was in place.

Jimmy turned to face Sam. Sam felt the urge to comfort him, but thought he was probably the wrong person for the job. "I'm sorry," said Sam, aware that this time Jimmy wouldn't be able to see his family and feeling truly sorry for that.

Jimmy shrugged and said, "I would appreciate something else to wear. A different shirt would be nice."

Sam placed the jewel on the bedside table nodded, and then left the room. He rifled through his own duffle and found his tightest t-shirt and a grey flannel shirt. When he returned to the other room, Jimmy wore his pants. Sam gave him the shirts and watched as Jimmy finished dressing.

"Thanks," Jimmy said, sitting to put on his socks.

"You're welcome." Sam stood there, hesitant to say what he wanted to say. It had been on his mind from the moment Castiel had gone back to Heaven, but Sam wasn't sure it was the right time or even whether he should bother.

"I really appreciate this," Jimmy said, motioning at the clothes he'd just put on.

"Look," Sam said, deciding to take the plunge. They were going to be with Jimmy for who knew how long, and Sam didn't want there to be any hostilities.

Jimmy stared up at Sam, his full attention on him. Sam flinched at the intensity of the look in the man's eyes.

"I just wanted to apologize for how harsh I was with you the last time we met." Sam cleared his throat a few times, shifting uncomfortably on the spot.

"You were just trying to be forthright with me and I appreciated that, Sam." He stretched his arms out with a rueful shake of his head at the too-long cuffs.

"Here, let me." Sam reached out and took a cuff in his hand. He rolled it once, adjusting the length, and buttoned up the two buttons.

"I don't remember any of it," Jimmy said as he offered Sam the other cuff. "I thought when I asked Castiel to take me instead of my..." Jimmy seemed to choke on the words, but Sam knew what he was going to say. "I thought it was over. I thought my life was over."

"Nothing's ever that simple," Sam muttered. He eyed the sleeves to make sure they were even. He didn't care that much about the sleeve, but this gave him something to distract him from having to look into Jimmy's eyes. Sam could hear the regret in the man's words.

"No, it isn't," Jimmy said with another deep sigh. He stared down at the cuffs his eyes wet with tears. Sam couldn't take it anymore. He moved forward, took Jimmy in his arms, and held him. Jimmy stood with his arms by his side, breath hitching from silent sobs. Sam rubbed his back a few times and tried to think of the right words, but nothing came.

Maybe some day Sam would find the words. Until then, his actions would have to speak for him.

* * *

Sam carefully set the book he'd been reading aside and stretched his arms and legs, his entire body feeling cramped. His neck cracked in all the right places and he sighed with relief. Their research into the mythical symbol was proving to be fruitless. Sam was convinced that even if they searched every ancient text Bobby had on his dusty shelves, they would be no closer to finding the supposed symbol to ward off the prince of darkness. He had a feeling that the symbol just didn't exist.

"You should go get some sleep," Dean said. He stretched and yawned, tossing aside the dusty old book he'd been reading. Sam glanced at his wristwatch. It was no wonder they were both exhausted. It was two-thirty in the morning, and Jimmy and Bobby had long since gone to bed.

"You take the bed," Sam said.

The sleeping arrangements had gotten somewhat awkward with Jimmy in the house. Bobby's room naturally went to Bobby but, after that, there was only one other bedroom with one bed, and Jimmy was currently sleeping in that one. It was either the sofa or the fold out cot upstairs in the guest room. The panic room was out of the question because the bunk just wasn't made for a comfortable night's sleep. The cot was out of the question for Sam because he'd be lucky to get half his body on the little thing. It made sense for Dean to sleep on the cot and Sam to sleep on the sofa. It was lumpy, but at least he could fit his long body on the thing. Sam shook his head and realized that he was over-thinking the problem.

"No, I insist you take the bed this time," Dean said. "I can take it tomorrow night." He picked up the book he'd tossed aside, and opened it to a random page. Sam was sure that Dean hadn't been reading the book before, because he hadn't turned a single page in the last two hours.

"We should flip a coin to see who gets the cot," Sam said. He stretched out and dug into his pants pocket for a quarter. He hated the thought of sleeping on that cot, but this was only fair.

"Seriously, Sammy," Dean said as he tossed his book aside and got to his feet. He hobbled a few steps to the sofa and flopped down beside Sam. Dean rubbed his leg and flinched. "I hate when my leg falls asleep before I do," he muttered, jamming his palm against one eye. "I'm fine down here."

"I don't even fit on the cot," Sam said, staring at his brother. Their shoulders touched and Sam leaned against Dean. He yawned and felt overcome with the urge to fall asleep.

The silence stretched between them. Maybe if Sam passed out now, Dean would have to go upstairs. Sam snuggled up to his brother and felt confident that his plan would work. When Dean didn't move or say anything, Sam peeked at his brother to find Dean wide awake, staring at the far wall.

"Fine," Sam said when the silence continued. Obviously, Dean was determined to stay down here. Sam stood and noticed a flash of relief play across Dean's face. Whatever the fuck was going on with Dean, he was obviously not ready to confide in Sam, and that stung. After everything that they'd gone through together, Sam had thought they'd finally gotten to a point where Dean felt comfortable confiding in him again, but it seemed Sam had been wrong.

Sam's heart sank at the thought. He trudged upstairs with barely a glance back. The bedroom door was ajar, and Sam nudged it open enough to slip inside quietly. Closing the door behind him, he sat down on the cot to remove his shoes. Jimmy lay curled on the bed, dressed in Sam's t-shirt and the pajama bottoms that Bobby had lent him, the covers kicked aside into a crumpled heap. Sam stared at Jimmy's exposed toes, watching them curl and flex. Then still.

Sam slipped his flannel shirt off, setting it down on the floor, then eased out of his jeans and dropped them on top of his shirt. When he glanced up to be sure he hadn't woken Jimmy, the man was staring at Sam.

"Hey," Sam said. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," Jimmy said. His voice groggy from sleep and his hair disheveled. He stifled a yawn and sat up, running his hand back through his messy hair. Sam found the futile motion amusing. The hair was messier than it had been before Jimmy's attempts to tame the stray locks.

"We'll be bunking together tonight," Sam said and narrowed his eyes. "You don't snore or talk in you sleep, do you?" he joked.

Jimmy shook his head. "Nope, not according to my wife." He slid from the bed and sat on the edge, eyeing the cot and then Sam. "Maybe you should take the bed. It would probably be much more comfortable for you than that thing." He gestured at the cot.

"Seriously?" Sam asked, touched that Jimmy would even offer. Dean would never have offered. He would have mocked Sam, called him sasquatch, and made him sleep on the cot, taking the bed for himself.

"Seriously," Jimmy said.

"Thanks." They stood up at the same time and Sam bumped against Jimmy, almost knocking him back on the bed. Sam grabbed at Jimmy's arm to stop his fall, and ended up losing his balance. They landed in a heap on the bed with Sam on top of Jimmy. For just a second, Sam was too surprised at the hardness he felt to react. He stared down into Jimmy's equally stunned expression.

Sam rolled to his feet, feeling his face flush from embarrassment. Jimmy rolled in the opposite direction, right off the bed and onto the floor. Sam reached down and pulled Jimmy up and right into own arms again.

"Sorry," Sam said, putting space between them. There was no doubt it was wood Sam had felt. Sam stood in the darkness unsure what to do or say. Pretending it never happened sounded like the best plan.

"I'm sorry," Jimmy whispered.

Sam cleared his throat. "We should just get some sleep." He glanced at his watch to see it was just past three.

"It wasn't about you," Jimmy said.

Sam held his hands up. "It's cool," Sam said before Jimmy could say another word.

"I just woke up," Jimmy continued.

"Dude, seriously. You don't have to explain," Sam said.

Sam glanced around the room, hoping the awkwardness would fade. They both remained silent as they lay down in their respective beds and settled in to sleep.

It was going to be a long night, at least whatever was left of it.

* * *

Sunlight filled the room by the time Sam sat up in bed, bleary-eyed and disoriented. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton, his body felt numb. He rubbed at his sore neck with a vague recollection of nightmares about fountains of blood. There was no blood on his fingers when he looked down, though an image of a sliced throat filled his mind. He barely remembered falling asleep, but he must have because it was daylight.

Glancing over at the empty cot, Sam swung his long legs over the edge of the bed to stand. He stretched and grimaced at the taste in his mouth, so foul it was as if something had crawled in and died there. He trudged out of the room and down the hallway to the thankfully unoccupied bathroom.

Sam sighed as he relieved himself, then he moved over to the sink and leaned against the counter to stare into the mirror. He looked like shit. The bags under his eyes meant he hadn't gotten much sleep.

Sam shook the grogginess from his head, and turned the tap on for a shower, hoping it would make him feel better. He stripped slowly and stared down at his half-hard dick, which surprised him because it had been a while since he'd felt anything stirring down there. If he was truthful, it had been since Ruby. Sam sneered at the thought of the demon. He still felt like a fool. Most times, he tried not to think about it at all. Though Dean had forgiven him, he managed a few reminders occasionally. Even though the words stung, Sam knew he could never have survived if Dean had cut him from his life for good. Dean was his whole world, and as fucked up as that sounded, Sam didn't care.

He flicked his dick a few times and watched it flop around, bemused by its sudden return to life. Stepping into the shower, Sam adjusted the tilt of the showerhead so he wouldn't have to duck to get under the spray. He sighed with relief when the warm water sluiced down his skin. What had happened last night had been insane. The 'Jimmy and Sammy antics' show, or better, the 'stupid guys fall down' show. Sam chuckled at the names and turned to wet his back. He ran his hands over his body, and groaned when his dick twitched. He reached down and stroked it a few times, and then turned to face the showerhead, feeling disappointment when his dick started to sag.

"No, no, no," he urged. "Come on." He thought about his favorite fantasy. Some random girl he'd saved from demons threw herself at him, begging him to let her thank him. She'd be so hot and blond, or maybe she'd have long dark hair. His dick went limper at the thought of dark hair. It seemed that his usual fantasies wouldn't work this time.

Sam and closed his eyes again as he stroked himself. He could switch to another fantasy, one he hadn't used in a long time. He was in a room on a bed naked with Tom from college. Tom had sucked Sam off in his darkened dorm room one time and, since then, Sam had always thought of Tom in his sexual fantasies when nothing else would work. He thought of the tall dark-haired man now as he stroked himself. His dick grew hard again, and Sam sighed with relief as he expanded the fantasy. They would fuck, right after Sam had saved Tom's ass from a demon. Tom would be so grateful, he'd offer to suck him, and then Sam would fuck him all night long.

Sam pressed his hand flat against the tiles and stroked himself faster, letting the images build.

They would kiss. Tom had been an awesome kisser. He'd move down to suck Sam's hard dick until he came, and he'd swallow every drop. The thought made Sam shiver and his cock jumped but, each time he'd reach the brink of orgasm, he would start to sag. Sam closed his eyes and switched partners. Suddenly he was there in the fantasy, unbidden. He couldn't get the thought of Jimmy's hard dick pressed against his leg out of his mind. Taking over in Sam's head, Jimmy was hard and begging Sam to kiss him and take him to heights of ecstasy he'd never even dreamed of, and Sam knew how to do that. He imagined Jimmy naked and crawling into his lap and Sam's cock jerked in his hand. Jimmy would beg and Sam would lean back as Jimmy impaled himself on Sam's hard cock. He'd fuck him so hard that Jimmy would scream his name. Sam sped the strokes up, and imagined Jimmy beneath him, his cock spurting between them. Sam moaned with pleasure and shook when his cock pulsed with each stroke, shooting over his hand, and splashing the tile wall.

Pressing his forehead against the cool tiles, Sam breathed a sigh of relief, opening his eyes as his spent cock twitched a few more times. As he thought of what had just happened, his heart thudded with fear in his chest. No one knew these fantasies, but a feeling of guilt coursed through him. Sam leaned against the wet wall and felt a lump form in his throat. There was no denying how fucked up he was.

* * *

The aroma of food filled the air with Bobby playing short-order cook at the stove. Dean sat on the sofa, face buried in some book, while Jimmy sat at the kitchen table. When Sam entered the room, Dean looked up and set the book aside. Sam noted that the book had some odd symbol he'd never seen before embossed on the cover.

"It's about time, sleeping beauty," Dean quipped.

Sam sneered and sat down beside Dean, taking the book from him. He glanced at the text then the spine. The title was faded to the point that only a few letters were still discernable.

"We still haven't found the symbol?" Sam asked, resisting the urge to voice his thoughts about the validity of this symbol's existence.

Dean glared and snatched the book from Sam's grasp. "While you were jerking your wad," Dean said, raising his voice on the last few words. " _We,_ meaning those of us who were not sleeping in then taking a long-ass shower, were busy, thank you very much." He stuck his nose in the book and reached out to smack Sam on the head.

"I was not taking a long-ass shower," Sam protested. He could feel the blush spread from his cheeks, across his face and to his neck.

Dean grinned and pointed at Sam who took the book from Dean and motioned to hit him with him, but Dean managed to duck the half-hearted attempt at bludgeoning. "Ha! But you were jerking your chain," he crowed with triumph. Sam clenched his jaw. Sometimes, he hated how well Dean knew him.

"Next time, don't look so guilty."

Sam stood and stepped around the sofa, then tossed the book back to Dean, hitting him on the head. It bounced into Dean's lap and Dean cringed when it landed. _'Take that!'_ Sam wanted to say aloud but, when he turned around, he saw that Bobby and Jimmy were both staring at them. Bobby sighed and shook his head.

"When you two idjits are finished playing footsies, breakfast is ready." Bobby said as he scooped scrambled eggs into a large plate in the center of the table.

Sam pulled out a chair and sat down on the other side of the table, leaving the two seats beside Jimmy empty. Dean approached, an expression of distaste playing across his face for a brief moment before it vanished, and he sat down.

They ate in silence. The only sound in the room was the clatter of cutlery on plates. Sam sipped at his coffee, grateful for the strong brew, and watched in curiosity as Jimmy drank milk. He stared at Jimmy's small, delicate hands, and wondered how the man could have contained something as powerful as an angel. He noted that Jimmy seemed smaller than Castiel, though that was not possible; the perception had to be Sam's imagination playing tricks.

An hour or so later, while Sam and Dean checked the trunk of the Impala to be sure it was fully equipped, Sam noted Dean was watching him closely. Sam tried to ignore the stares and focus on his task, deciding they would need more shotgun shells filled with rock salt. Sam could fill the shells when they went back inside the house, and he made a mental note of the number he wanted to make. When Sam looked up, he found Dean leaning against the car, arms folded, staring down at him. Sam paused in his tally, and stared down at the shotgun and casing shells.

"You're acting kind of weird," Dean said.

"Weirder than usual?" Sam loaded the cartridge and picked up another shell, shrugging his shoulders. He put the weapon in its slot, and nudged Dean out of the way to close the trunk.

"I'm just as freaked as you are."

Sam sighed and leaned against the car beside Dean, adjusting when the car sank a bit under his weight. For just a second, he wished things between them were as they used to be, before all this, before Sam died, before Dean went to Hell, before the angels, when things were so much simpler but then the moment vanished like dust on the wind.. Sam pushed those thoughts aside; there was no use in wishing, because that went nowhere.

The door to the house opened and Jimmy loped down the steps. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Jimmy asked.

"Nope," Dean said, slamming his hand on the trunk. "It's all taken care of." He stood and turned his back on Jimmy, and Sam caught that look of distaste he'd seen earlier. Dean glanced up at Sam and then started to walk back to the house. "I'm going to take a look at the traps again." Sam noticed Dean never once made eye contact with Jimmy. Obviously, something was definitely up, and it was becoming apparent that it had to do with Jimmy. He pondered what it could be as he watched Dean vanish into the house.

"He doesn't like me much," Jimmy said. They both stared at the front door.

"That's not true," Sam said, even as he knew his words rang false. "He's just..."

"Freaked out about everything," Jimmy said with a nod. "I get it. It's not as if I can help in this fight. I don't even know how to fire a gun."

Sam perked up and turned to look at Jimmy. This was something he could deal with. He stood and opened the trunk.

"That has got to change," Sam said. He pulled his sawed-off from its cradle, and took a handgun from the trunk, handing a box of ammunition to Jimmy. "For now, we can use mine, but Bobby can probably get you something for later." Sam slammed the trunk shut and walked out to the car lot behind the house with Jimmy right behind him. There, amongst the piled up wrecks, away from the house, they could hide from the world. Sam stopped in a space wide enough to accommodate what he had in mind. Jimmy stopped beside him and watched Sam unload the weapons.

"I don't like guns," Jimmy said.

Sam ignored his comment and set up a few targets, using rusted pieces of metal he found strewn on the ground. When he walked back to where Jimmy stood, Sam held the handgun up.

"This is how you load a handgun," Sam said. He reloaded and emptied the weapon and, after he'd done this several times, handed the gun and shells over to Jimmy who held the gun so gingerly a few shells dropped to the ground. Sam took the gun back and showed Jimmy the right way to hold the weapon. "You can use both hands if you want," he said. He wrapped his hands around Jimmy's grip and positioned him so that they faced the targets.

Sam could tell Jimmy was scared. He could feel the shake in Jimmy's fingers, but Sam persisted. He moved in behind Jimmy and stretched their arms out, pointing the barrel at the target.

"It's simple," Sam said. "You just sight along the barrel and pull the trigger." He demonstrated and the hammer clicked against the empty chamber.

Jimmy nodded and seemed to swallow his nervousness. "Show me everything," Jimmy said with a deep breath.

Sam did. He watched as Jimmy fumbled shells and loaded the gun a few times, Jimmy nodding as he listened to every word of instruction. When Sam felt Jimmy was ready, he stood behind him and watched as Jimmy fired a loaded gun for the first time in his life. Jimmy's arm jumped from the recoil and he gave a yelp. His shot went wild, missing the target by a dozen feet.

"I should have warned you about the recoil," Sam said. He moved in closer to steady Jimmy's arm. He lifted the arm up and leaned in to sight down the barrel. "Hold your arm straight so you control the recoil," he said. Jimmy shivered and swallowed hard. Sam was sure he'd falter, but then Jimmy nodded and tightened his grip on the gun. He squeezed the trigger again, and this time managed to hit the car behind the targets. Adjusting his one-handed grip with Sam's help, Jimmy fired a third shot. Each time his arm jumped less as he learned to control his grip.

The first time Jimmy hit the target, the pleased smile on his face made Sam's stomach tighten. Sam stepped away from him, and watched as Jimmy held the gun up at arm's length, and squeezed off a few more shots. He hit the second target and third target until the gun was empty. Sam leaned against a pile of rusted cars and inhaled a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"Did you see that?" Jimmy asked. He waved the gun in the direction he'd been shooting.

Sam reached out and stopped his movements.

"Sorry," Jimmy said with obvious embarrassment. "I got carried away."

"It's cool. The gun wasn't loaded anyway," Sam said. He took the weapon from Jimmy's shaking hand, and set the gun down behind him on the roof of a rusted out old car. Sam picked up the shotgun and held the gun up to show Jimmy how to load the rock salt cartridge into the chamber. He handed the gun over and watched as Jimmy unloaded and loaded the gun. Sam made him do it several times, until Jimmy looked comfortable with the weapon in his hand, and then instructed him to aim at the targets.

"That's probably enough for today," Sam said after Jimmy fired a few rounds. He'd mostly missed, but it was getting dark and Sam was tired. He wished more than anything that they didn't have to be there, or have to do what they'd been practicing, but wishing had never done him any good.

"Thank you, Sam," Jimmy said.

At first, Sam couldn't look Jimmy in the eyes, but then Jimmy leaned in closer to force eye contact, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam could see that the expression in his eyes was one of complete sincerity. Without thinking about what he was doing, or why he was doing it, Sam leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jimmy's mouth. The moment they touched, the aching feeling in his chest vanished. Jimmy tilted his head up and kissed Sam back, urging Sam to move in closer. Sam put one arm around Jimmy's shoulders, and pulled them closer together. Sam deepened the kiss, eager to push his tongue deep into Jimmy's warm pliant mouth. He tugged at Jimmy's shirt as they ground their hips together. This time, Sam was thrilled to feel the hard length pressed against him. He slid his hand down and squeezed, sending shivers through Jimmy. All the while, the thought that this was insane ran through Sam's mind, but he didn't care, because Jimmy wanted this and Sam wanted this, and Sam had decided to hell with worrying because he was going to take everything he could get.

Jimmy broke the kiss and stared up at Sam, eyes filled with longing. Sam's heart sped up, thumping against his ribcage. Jimmy placed a soft kiss on Sam's lips and caressed Sam's hair.

"I..." Sam started to say.

Jimmy pressed two fingers against Sam's lips, shushing him. "It's okay," Jimmy said and then replaced the fingers with his lips.

The sound of Sam's cell phone ringing broke their third kiss, and Sam licked his lips.

"I should probably get that."

Jimmy smoothed Sam's hair with one hand as Sam retrieved his cell phone from the front pocket of his jeans. Sam shivered at the brush of his own fingers against the tip of his hardening cock. Fuck! He wanted to throw his phone across the lot and bend Jimmy over one of the cars surrounding them. Instead, he thought about things that would kill his libido and stepped away from Jimmy, turning his back on him as he flipped the cell phone open and placed it to his ear.

"Where the hell are you, Sammy," Dean said so loud Sam had to hold the phone away from his ear.

"I'm in the yard behind the house," Sam said. "Why, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, we just heard gunfire and then you never came back to the house. We were worried something had happened," Dean replied. His voice echoed and when Sam turned around to face Jimmy, he realized why. Dean shut his own cell phone and jogged up to them. "What the hell are you two doing out here?" He glared at Jimmy first, and then turned his disapproval onto Sam. Sam shut his own phone, suddenly feeling like he'd been caught red-handed doing something illegal.

"Sam was showing me how to..." Jimmy started to say, but stopped when Dean turned his angry stare back on him.

"Sam was showing you what?" Dean said. Dean looked from Jimmy to Sam then back to Jimmy again, his gaze falling on the gun Jimmy held.

"He needs to know how to protect himself," Sam said with a defensive tone.

Dean rushed forward and snatched the shotgun from Jimmy who jumped back stunned at the sudden action.

"I can't fucking believe you!" Dean screamed. "He's a fucking angel!"

Sam reeled from his brother's harsh words, swallowing hard at the sudden thought that maybe Dean had seen something he shouldn't have, like the kiss.

Silence fell between them with Dean's words echoing through the air. Sam saw the stunned look on Jimmy's face and the wide-eyed stare on Dean's, and Sam bowed his head, whispering, "He's not Castiel."

Dean sneered. "Don't you think I know that?" Dean's glare shifted from Jimmy to Sam.

A flurry of wings filled the air, and something pushed Sam away. He flew across the yard, landing in a heap ten feet from where he'd stood just moments ago and, when he look up, he saw Zachariah with two other men at his side.

"Hello, Dean," Zachariah said as he motioned at Jimmy.

When Jimmy tried to run, the two men grabbed him on either side. He struggled and called for help, but Zachariah reached up and touched him on the forehead, rendering him unconscious. Jimmy sagged between the two men. "Sorry, but we need to borrow this." There was a blinding flash of light, and Sam shielded his eyes. When the light faded away, Sam looked up to find that he and Dean were alone in the yard.

Jimmy had vanished along with Zachariah and his goons.

* * *

The first though going through Jimmy Novak's mind when he awoke was that he was going to die. He found himself on a cold concrete floor in a crumpled heap, his head throbbing, and his body aching.

He opened his eyes, and stared up at a ceiling. He tried to sit up, the attempt unsuccessful as he realized that his hands had been tied behind his back. Rolling onto his side, he took a deep breath, trying not to let complete panic set in, and then tried to shake the groggy feeling away. The last thing he remembered was standing in Bobby's junkyard, an irate Dean before him. It had dawned on him, just before he lost consciousness, that Dean wanted him gone and the angel back. That was when all hell had broken loose, and he'd been whisked to who knew where. Feeling hopeless, he closed his eyes and said a silent prayer.

"Finally, you're awake," said an impatient voice somewhere behind him.

Jimmy turned his head and, in his peripheral vision, he could just make out someone in a light suit. He could also hear the sound of liquid splashing on the floor. Jimmy looked up to see that a man holding a clay jug in his hand was pouring liquid in a circle around him.

"What is that?" Jimmy said as he watched the man close the circle.

"My name is Zachariah," he said, ignoring Jimmy's question. He handed the jug to the man behind him, brushed his hands together, and examined his handiwork. He was smiling, but Jimmy saw no warmth or joy in his expression.

"I'm not Castiel," Jimmy said, his heart speeding up. "Castiel's gone. It's just me, Jimmy. Castiel's gone." He raised his voice on the last words as Zachariah couched down beside him, and reached for Jimmy. Jimmy felt fear build in his chest, and when the cool hand touched his forehead, he tried in vain to shrink away.

"I know that you moron," Zachariah said. "He left you alone to fend for yourself." He stroked Jimmy's cheek and lifted his chin up so that their gazes met. Jimmy shuddered at the touch. His caress felt noxious, like poison. "I'm an angel. I'm Castiel's superior. Unfortunately, Castiel went rogue and now he has to be put down like a dog."

Jimmy struggled to sit up, trying frantically to loosen the bonds around his hands. The rope cut into his skin, and seemed to tighten the more he tried to break free.

"Don't bother trying to break those," Zachariah said with a gleam in his eye. "I made them myself." He motioned at the ring around Jimmy. "That's holy oil and we're going to make a long distance call."

"How did you find me?"

"Human spies. Sadly we've been forced to use then, but they have proven quite effective," Zachariah said with a sneer and wave of his hand. "But that no longer matter." He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "New plan since Dean won't play along and Castiel does need to be punished for his disobedience..." He leaned in close with his mouth to Jimmy's ear and sniffed him, sending shudders through Jimmy.

"Get away from me," Jimmy said, his voice cracking. Jimmy found he could no longer hide his fear and felt tears well in his eyes along with cold lump forming in his gut.

"You've been a naughty boy," Zachariah said with a wag of his finger. He stood up and straightened his tie. "Dean wasn't enough. You had to go for the other brother."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jimmy said. He stopped struggling and sagged against the floor. He knew it was useless to fight. There was no way to escape and there was no one here to protect him. Sam and Dean had no idea where he was, and Castiel wasn't responding to his silent prayers. Jimmy hung his head and let the tears fall.

"Whatever," Zachariah said with another shrug of his shoulders. "Don't move, or I will snap your tiny, insignificant little neck." He bent and grasped Jimmy by the collar, pulled him up onto his feet, and started to whisper words Jimmy couldn't understand into his ear. When Zachariah finished the chant, he stepped outside of the circle. Jimmy staggered but managed to stay on his feet.

"Come on home, boy." Zachariah looked up to the ceiling. He seemed to be waiting for something to happen. When nothing appeared, he paced impatiently just outside the circle. "This could take some time. That's something I don't have."

"I don't know what you think is going to happen, but they won't come here," Jimmy said.

"I know. How about I speed things up?" Zachariah snapped his fingers. "Every disease known to man," Zachariah snarled and pointed at Jimmy. "You have them all."

Jimmy felt his entire body go numb. He coughed and blood sprayed from his lips, then he shivered uncontrollably and fell to his knees, no longer able to stand. Jimmy screamed out in agony.

"Castiel! I'm going to destroy your meat suit." Zachariah snarled. He pulled a matchbook out of his pocket, and lit one of the matches. He held it up and stared at the dancing flame. "You think you can fuck with me. You think you can frighten me. Maybe the others are afraid of you, but I won't be. I don't care who brought you back from the dead."

The wall to their left exploded and chunks of plaster and brick flew around the room. Barely able to stand the pain, Jimmy watched as Sam stormed into the room, weapons ready. Dean and someone Jimmy had never seen before rushed in right behind him.

The lit match fell and hit the circle of oil, setting it on fire. Jimmy felt the heat from the flames scorch his face and clothes and skin, and he screamed out in pain. He pushed himself to his knees and struggled to stay in the center of the burning circle.

"I told you he'd come." Zachariah turned to face Dean, and paused. "What the hell is this?"

"Zachariah." The stranger drawled the name, eyes fixed on the angel. The two angels that had helped Zachariah rushed at the newcomer but paused in their flight when he turned his gaze on them. "Bye, bye, boys," he said. With a snap of his fingers, the two angels vanished.

Dean rushed forward and grabbed hold of Zachariah, flinging him across the room to smash against the far wall.

"You can't do this," Zachariah said as he scrambled to his feet.

"I can and I have," Dean said with eyes wide.

"Castiel?" Jimmy groaned the name. He could barely see through the rising flames, but there was no mistake. Castiel had taken Dean as a vessel.

Dean rushed Zachariah while Sam hurried to help Jimmy. Eyes dazzled by the firelight, Jimmy could just make out that the remaining man was short with a messy head of hair and wore jeans and a shirt with a dark brown jacket. Standing with his arms crossed, the stranger calmly said, "You're not supposed to be here, Zack."

Zachariah stopped, his eyes going wide. Even at a distance, Jimmy was sure he saw fear in them. "Gabriel?"

"That's right," the man said. "It's me, and I'm not happy to see you." A crash of thunder drowned out all other sounds and lightning flashed in the room.

There was a flurry of movement and a thrash of wings. Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and prayed. The heat become unbearable and his insides felt twisted into knots. He knew it was the end for him knew that he would die here, and nothing could stop the outcome.

Someone jumped into the flames beside him, and cut the ropes from his wrists. Jimmy opened his eyes to find Sam with his arm around him. Sam pulled him up onto his feet and held on tight. Jimmy saw that part of the circle had been broken with a piece of wood that Sam had used as a bridge.

"Come on," Sam shouted. They stumbled over the wood just before the fire consumed it, flames licking at their heels. Jimmy slammed into Sam as they fell against the far wall and they rolled, Sam covering Jimmy's body with his own. Jimmy cried out in pain when his arm broke from the fall.

He watched through tear-stained eyes as Castiel and Gabriel cornered Zachariah. In the blink of an eye, Zachariah was gone and the sound of thunder died down. Castiel and Gabriel stood in the center of the room, Gabriel's hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Thank you for the assistance," Castiel said.

"No prob, bro," Gabriel said. "Any time you need me, just ring." In a flash of blinding light, Gabriel vanished before anyone could say more.

Sam knelt beside Jimmy, careful not to jolt him. Jimmy clutched at his bruised and battered ribs, and leaned against Sam. He coughed again and blood dripped from his lips. Jimmy felt his head spin. Everything was happening too fast.

"Hang in there," said Sam.

Jimmy slid his hand into Sam's and squeezed it as tightly as he could.

"Thank you for everything," Jimmy said. He shivered uncontrollably and Sam tightened his grip on Jimmy's hand. Jimmy managed a feeble smile.

"You have to hurry," Sam said. He released Jimmy's hand and moved aside to make room for Castiel.

"I can't stay in here much longer. The oils are starting to wear thin," Castiel said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white cloth. Castiel wiped Dean's eyelids and mouth with the cloth. White light started to bleed from the corners of his eyes.

Jimmy saw the expression of worry in Sam's eyes as Dean crouched down to take Jimmy's face in his hands. The glow was immediate and Jimmy felt his heart race with panic. He took one last look at Sam, and felt his chest constrict with regret.

"I am sorry, Jimmy," Castiel said.

Jimmy felt relief flood his chest and he stared up at Dean.

"It's not your fault," Jimmy said.

"I will end your pain." Castiel tilted Jimmy's face up and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. With a sigh of relief, Jimmy Novak gladly gave in to the possession, his own thoughts fading into the oblivion. He could already feel his body begin to mend. As Castiel's essence flowed from Dean to Jimmy, filling every cell of his body, bones knit together and damaged tissue reformed.

Dean collapsed to his knees, clutching at Jimmy's coat.

"I apologize," Castiel said. "I hadn't expected my mission to take so long."

Sam looked up from Dean, his expression shifting to one of sorrow.

"You're going to be fine, Dean. You shouldn't feel any side effects," Castiel finished.

"What about Jimmy?" Sam asked.

"He is already healed," Castiel said. Castiel flexed a hand to demonstrate. The blood was gone from his lips and his face looked healthy again.

"Damn," Dean moaned as Sam helped him stand. "If I'd known I'd get the mother of all headaches, I would have said 'no thanks.' You weren't kidding when you said it could be overwhelming," Dean said with a deep breath.

"We need to get out of here before Zachariah returns with reinforcements," Castiel said. He raised his hands and touched his fingers to Dean and Sam's foreheads, not waiting for permission.

* * *

They were in Bobby's home moments later. Dean stumbled and Sam caught him before he hit the floor.

"Whoa, I think I'm going to be sick," Dean muttered as he bent over, clutching at his stomach, but he wasn't sick, and Sam led him over to Bobby's sofa to sit him down.

Bobby rushed into the room. "I guess your cockamamie master plan worked," Bobby said, wiping his forehead with one hand.

"Yup, Cas wore me to the party," Dean said with a humorless chuckle. He clutched at his side and bent forward. "I feel like I've been turned inside out, but at least we got Cas back." Dean glanced up at Castiel. He was already starting to regain color in his face and he sat back, slumped in the sofa, breathing a sigh of relief.

"No smart remark about how I was _inside you_ ," Castiel said with a quirk of his lip.

Dean paused and stared wide-eyed at Castiel.

"Was that a joke?" Dean said. His expression changed from pain to one of amusement.

"You said I should try to be more... human," Castiel said.

"Sorry, smart remarks are what I'm good at," Dean said as he rubbed his temple. "Fuck that hurts."

"I'm sorry," Castiel said. He moved to Dean's other side and sat on the armrest of the sofa beside Dean.

"It's cool, Cas," Dean said letting out a breath. "Good thing that oil worked. Remind me never to go along with a dumb idea like that again."

Castiel opened his mouth to say something, but closed it at Dean's warning glare. Sam stood up.

"I think I'll go get you a glass of water," he said and left the room.

"It's probably a good idea for you to get some rest," Bobby said. Dean closed his eyes and hummed in agreement.

"I think I'll just sleep the rest of the apocalypse away at this point," Dean said. "Oh fuck," groaned Dean, "Damn, Cas, did you have to ride me so hard?" He cracked an eye open and smirked up at Castiel.

Sam came back with a glass of water and gave it to Dean, who took it and managed a sip before handing it back to Sam.

"By the way," Bobby said. He examined something that he was holding in his hand. "While you were all out saving the world, I was doing some research on those trinkets we brought back from Brad's place." He held a round object up between his thumb and index finger that glittered in the light. "This little bauble has some interesting properties. It's been cursed with a spell to capture a heart."

Dean opened his eyes at Bobby's words and stared at the gem. It looked like the one he'd placed on the bedroom nightstand. Sam's eyes went wide, and Dean noted his sudden nervousness. Castiel sat quietly, expression unchanged. Dean sat up and rubbed at his neck, feeling like he'd just swallowed a lump of lead.

"I'm working on a lockbox for it," Bobby said as he stared at the gem and shook his head. "It's a tough one because the spell is so strong. It makes anyone near it fall madly in love. I had better get back to work. The sooner I get this thing locked away, the better." Bobby turned to leave the room then turned back to face Dean. "I found this thing on the nightstand of my spare bedroom. You boys know better than to leave something this dangerous lying around."

"I just thought it was a gem," Dean said with a shrug. He swallowed nervously at Bobby's glare. "I thought we could make some quick cash."

"You thought wrong," Bobby said, turning and leaving the room. It was obvious from his body language that he was angry with them.

Sam sat down beside Dean, still staring with wide eyes. Dean reached out and patted his brother on the leg.

"It's a good thing nothing happened," Dean said with a nervous chuckle. Sam nodded and muttered something like agreement under his breath. When he turned his head to look at Castiel, the angel had vanished.

* * *

The sun was shining and the weather had turned warmer than it had been in a long time. Dean stood on the front porch of the house with a coffee cup in one hand. He sipped at the hot drink and sighed. His mind had been racing all night with what had happened between him and Castiel in that bedroom. The moment had all felt so right, and now it seemed that all those feelings turned out to be the product of some curse. They hadn't seen or heard from Castiel in a few days, and Sam had remained mostly silent. Dean was glad for the peace. He needed it after the ordeal he'd been through, and the fallout of his own stupid mistake with that cursed gem. How was he supposed to look Castiel in the eye? How was he supposed to explain to him that what they'd felt was nothing but the product of a curse.

"Hey," Sam said from behind him. Dean turned to find Sam standing in the doorway, holding his own coffee mug. "How are you feeling?" Sam moved to stand beside Dean and took a long sip of his coffee.

"Much better," Dean said, rubbing his eye.

"Good," Sam said with a worried expression. Dean hoped his brother wasn't about to get all mushy and want to discuss their feelings because he wasn't in the mood. He was worried about Castiel.

Sam went to say something else, but Dean glared at him, hoping he'd get the hint. Except this was Sam and even if he got the hint, he'd still keep talking.

"If something did happen..."

"Nothing happened," snapped Dean, turning on Sam.

Sam backed away as though Dean had landed a physical blow. He held his hand up in surrender and went back inside, closing the front door behind him.

Dean felt a twinge of guilt build in him, and started to turn to follow his brother inside to apologize for going off on him when Bobby's truck pulled up. He parked and got out, a paper bag in one hand. Bobby silently stomped up the steps and paused in front of Dean.

"It's done," Dean said, more than asked. Since the box was no longer in Bobby's possession, he already knew the answer to the question, though asking made him somehow feel better.

"It's done," Bobby said. "The box is secured in John's storage locker, behind the strongest lock I could find." Bobby stared at Dean as though he wanted to say more, but then started heading inside. Dean grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean said, his voice gruff.

Bobby just nodded and went inside, Dean following close behind him. He took his empty cup into the kitchen and rinsed it out in the sink. Sam sat on the living room sofa with a dusty old book in his hand. Dean made himself a big sandwich and joined Sam on the sofa.

"This is about that gem," Sam said. He flipped to the next page.

"Well, Bobby has it locked away so there's no point reading up on it now," Dean said, taking a big bite out of his sandwich. He hummed with pleasure at the flavor, and his stomach rumbled. "Don't worry, baby, it's coming," Dean said patting his stomach.

"Don't talk with food in your mouth," Sam said. He flipped another page. "Listen to this," Sam said, pointing out a paragraph. "The Grant gem, named so because the person who cursed it was named Arthur Grant, has the properties to illicit love from any within close range."

"Yeah, so," Dean said with a nod. He took another eager bite from his sandwich.

"The gem will bring forth deep-seated desires that even the possessor of the stone would not realize," Sam said, enunciating every word. "He or she would express love where it would otherwise have remained silent." Sam stopped and leaned back, scrunching up his face, and closed the book. "It doesn't really sound like a curse."

Dean set his half-eaten sandwich down on the plate, pondering what his brother had just read.

"So if it wasn't there to begin with, then nothing would have happened," Dean said, thinking aloud.

"Looks like that's exactly the case," Sam said. They looked up to find Bobby staring at them.

"Better safe than sorry," Bobby said with a shrug. He took the book from Sam and put it back on the shelf in its spot.

* * *

Dean turned to find Castiel in the room. He'd gotten the phone call just a few seconds before and asked that Castiel make his appearance. As usual, Dean couldn't tell what was on the other man's mind. His expression was blank, and he wished that this weren't the case, especially at a time like this.

"Other angels have fallen in behind Gabriel and joined our ranks," Castiel informed him.

"That's great, Cas," Dean said, moving in closer. He wasn't surprised that he was glad to see Castiel. It had been almost two weeks since Castiel had disappeared. Dean hadn't sat idle during that time, but he'd thought nonstop about what had happened between them and what he would say when they saw each other again.

"He holds weight up in heaven," Castiel said, taking a step back as Dean moved in closer. "I am grateful that he agreed to join our cause."

Dean took another step forward and Castiel moved back until he bumped against the wall and couldn't move any more.

"That's great, Cas," Dean said, reaching out and fingering the lapel of his trench coat. "Now shut up and kiss me." Every conversation Dean had gone over in his mind vanished from his thoughts. Dean leaned forward and kissed Castiel. He hadn't known how he would handle all this until just this second. He was sure he would just write it all off and pretend as if it had never happened, but with just one kiss, Dean knew what to do.

"Does this mean personal space is no longer an issue?" Castiel asked when the kiss ended.

"Oh it's an issue all right," Dean said as he pulled Castiel in closer. He kissed him again to show just what he meant. Dean sighed with relief when Castiel kissed him back. He couldn't imagine his life without Castiel and come hell, high water, cursed stone, or apocalypse, he wasn't going to let this slip away.

End


End file.
